Drive, Davis!... Just Drive! (Final of Series)
by SpaceCowboyMedic
Summary: Davis & most of male cast story. Complete. Rated for language. Why is it when someone says don't do it, your first instinct is to do it? Don't know? Ask Davis.
1. Drive, Davis!... Just Drive! Chapter I

  
  
**Author's Note: Okay I'll say it again- this is as much a comedy as it is horror. That said, this is part of a series that consists of two others, each respectively titled 'Drive, ???...Just Drive!' And for those of you following this story, this is the final installment. And just maybe the smart one of the band, hehe Davis, will figure out the secret behind the house.   
  
  
Drive, Davis...Just Drive!  
********************  
  
"Come on, guys. I feel left out," pleaded Davis. He'd been begging unfruitfully since Bosco and Carlos had returned to the cabin with their story. "And if you don't take me, I'll just keep thinking you're all wimpy liars." He pouted, flashing his friends sad, puppy dog eyes.  
  
"That only works on three year olds," snipped Bobby, passing Jimmy a steaming mug of coffee. Then he took a seat beside him, carefully securing the blanket around his shivering friend. "And besides, I think Jimmy caught a cold running through the rain. He really shouldn't be going out."  
  
"Aaachhoooo!" sneezed Jimmy.  
  
"Somebody get him a Kleenex," whined Bosco, rising from his seat beside the firefighter and moving to another couch. "That house is definitely one venue that doesn't deserve an encore," he said, pushing Carlos aside to take a seat.  
  
Davis grabbed his jacket anyway, and picked up a set of car keys. "I'll drive?" he offered, waving the keys before his smiling face. "It'll be fun," he chided. "We'll pack a dinner. Sing some songs. We'll make an evening out of scarring the crap out of each other...?"  
  
"Not gonna happen..."  
  
"Bite me..."  
  
"Give it up..."  
  
"Aaachhoooo!"  
  
Davis dropped his playful facade and slumped his shoulders. "Come on, I really wanna see this place. I'll go on my own if I have to."  
  
"Don't do that!" cried Bobby, his eyes wide. "You might not make it back alive!"  
  
"So you'll come with me then?" Davis asked eagerly.  
  
Bobby dropped his head, shaking it slowly and berating himself for what he was about to say. "Yes," he replied quietly. "If it'll make you shut up."  
  
Davis bounced on his toes, waving the keys to the other group members in an offer to come along. But Bobby interrupted him before he could ask. "But I'm staying in the car! I ain't going in!"  
  
Davis ironed his face. "Yes, sir," he replied, saluting his friend in a grand gesture.  
  
"You guys...aaachhoooo!...Are freaking...aaachhoooo!...crazy," mumbled Jimmy, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. "And what makes you think you'll be able to find it anyway?" he continued, wiping feverishly at his runny nose with a Kleenex. "The place seems to disappear and appear on a whim...aaachhoooo!"  
  
"Good point!" exclaimed Bobby, jutting a finger into the air. "Guess we can't go after all, Davis."  
  
"We we're able to find it," added Carlos. "And Bosco and I weren't even looking for it."  
  
Bobby threw Carlos an irritated glance. "Thank you so much, Carlos. You're really helping here." He got up from the couch and joined Davis at the door of the cabin. Slowly, he surveyed the room, taking in what he thought would be the last time he'd ever see his friends again. "Good bye, my fellow co-workers," he mourned, steepling his fingers in a praying position. "I have enjoyed the time we have shared on the third watch of New York's city streets."  
  
"Oh give it up!" cried Bosco, rising from the couch.  
  
"And the Oscar for best dramatic performance goes to..." challenged Carlos, also rising.  
  
The two men joined Davis and Bobby at the door, each grabbing their jackets from hooks on the wall. "We'll go with you," said Bosco. "You're gonna need someone to hold your hand."  
  
The four men readied themselves to leave, each forgetting about the one still sneezing on the couch. "Hey, guys," Jimmy whined, letting his body fall to the side. "I don't wanna stay here alone." He peeled the blanket from his body and stood up, wavering slightly as the fluids drained from his head. "I'm coming too...aaachhoooo!"  
  
Again, Davis bounced on his toes, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Yeah, baby!" he cheered, turning to open the door. "If this place is everything you guys claim it to be, this is gonna be fun."  
  
"Yeah, fun...can't wait," replied Bobby, in a less than eager voice.  
  
"Bring it on," added Carlos, his voice as deadpan as his friend's.  
  
But Bosco had other thoughts running through his mind besides all the 'fun' they were gonna have. He stepped away from the door and ran into one of the bedrooms. He came back wearing an old football helmet, and proclaimed he was good to go.  
  
Jimmy looked at him strangely, sneezed, then rapped on the helmet. "What's that for?"  
  
Bosco ignored him and stepped out of the cabin. "Let's just go before I change my mind," he said over his shoulder, as he climbed down the front steps of the cottage. The rest followed suit, and climbed into Davis's Cherokee.  
  
As promised, Davis drove while Bobby took up the passenger seat and Bosco and Carlos filled in the rear. Jimmy, still a walking sniffling factory, lay down in the very back of the truck and covered himself with a blanket.   
  
No one really remembered how to get to the house, since they had all come across it when they had gotten lost, so Davis just drove in any which direction he chose. Along the way, Bobby had an epiphany- turn on the radio. They could use it like a beacon, following it in the direction of worst reception.  
  
Since electrical properties seemed to diminish in the vicinity of the house, this seemed like a good idea. That is of course, if actually finding the house was a good thing. For four people in the truck, it wasn't. It was only Davis who exhibited any form of excitement as he drove along eagerly picking up the weakening signal from the radio.  
  
Being in cottage country, it wasn't hard to find desolate areas lacking in streetlights and amenities, but it was difficult to find a particular one. They had been driving for over half an hour, and had still not come across any strange changes in weather or odd, looming buildings. But the excitement of the adventure was beginning to slowly gain momentum with the other four  
  
"I think it was back there," Bosco said, leaning over the front seat and pointing over his shoulder. "I think we just missed the cut off."  
  
"How can you be sure?" asked Bobby. "I think it's still north."  
  
"I don't think were anywhere close to it," added Carlos, looking out his window into the blackness of night.   
  
"Uh, guys...aaachhoooo!" came Jimmy's voice from the rear.  
  
"I swear to god it's back there!" urged Bosco, tugging on Davis's shoulder to get him to turn around.  
  
But Davis kept driving straight ahead, ignoring all the suggestions and going with his gut instinct. Mind you, his gut wasn't all that reliable since it was battling with a strange case of both excitement and fear.  
  
"Aaachhoooo!...Guys, my...aaachhoooo!"  
  
"Davis, take the next right. I know it's that way," ordered Bobby.  
  
"No, go left," countered Carlos, joining Bosco in his lean over the front seat.  
  
"Would you guys stop it!" cried Davis. "You're all giving me different directions!"  
  
"Guys...aaachhoooo!...My watch is going backwards."  
  
"Who's been to this house before?" asked Bobby, glaring at Davis behind the wheel. "You? No. So listen to the authorities here."  
  
Carlos slapped Bobby in the back of the head and frowned. "Authority my ass..." he started, then paused. He sat back and further furrowed his brow. Then he leaned over the back seat and looked down at he man snuggled in the blanket. "Did you say something, Jimmy?"  
  
Jimmy rolled onto his back and peeled his blanket off. He raised his arm bearing the digital watch and showed it to Carlos. "I said my watch is going backwards."  
  
Carlos watched as the digits counted back from thirty-two. He gripped the seat and drew in a sharp breath. "Stop the car!" he yelled. "I think we're there!"  
  
*********  
  
(Read on...Please.)  
  
  



	2. Drive, Davis!... Just Drive! Chapter II

  
  
  
Drive, Davis...Just Drive!  
*********************  
  
  
The silver Cherokee was pulled over to the side of the road, but none of the occupants had dared to step outside. The landscape was dark, pitch black with only a few stars hovering in the night sky. Beams from the truck's headlights shone before the vehicle, only to disperse several feet ahead. There was a stillness about the area, smothering the natural calls of the wild usually found in cottage country.  
  
"Aaachhoooo!"  
  
The four men in the seats jumped, grasping their chests, slack-jawed and stunned. "Sorry," came Jimmy's voice from the rear.  
  
Davis pulled himself together first. He turned off the ignition and waited, his hands in his lap, while he stared out the front windshield into the great ebon expanse.  
  
"Try turning the car on again," suggested Bosco, his voice uncertain. "Then we'll know for sure if this is the right place."  
  
Davis pushed the key into the ignition and turned. No noise nor movement came from the engine. "So, I guess this is the spot," he said, pulling out the key. He swallowed hard, reached for the door handle and slowly opened the door. Stepping into the night air, Davis could feel a chill run down his spine. He leaned back into the truck. "You guys coming?"  
  
Quickly, Bosco and Carlos both scrambled from the car- not wanting to stay behind in the dead vehicle. Somehow, the idea of anything 'dead' was not boding well with them. They joined Davis on his side of the truck, standing close and hovering over a different shoulder of their friends.  
  
Jimmy, rapidly trying to unravel himself from his cocoon of blankets, finally gave up and called for help. A moment later, Davis was at the back door untangling his friend and helping him out. This left Bobby alone in the dead truck.  
  
"Yeah, like I'm really this stupid," he bemused to himself, opening his door and stepping out.  
  
"I thought you said you were gonna stay in the truck?" asked Davis, a smile playing on his lips.   
  
"Forget what I said," replied Bobby, taking up position amongst the group closely huddled around Davis. "Change of plans. I ain't staying here alone."  
  
With the group united and sticking close, they slowly backed away from the vehicle. One by one they started to peel off Davis' back, and the newcomer to the area was finally able to stretch his arms. He stepped ahead and turned back to the group- huddled together, their eyes darting about feverishly.  
  
"Guys," Davis said. "Relax. There's nothing here that's all that bad." He spread his arms and circled the spot, looking out into the night. He couldn't understand why he had been so scared a few minutes ago. It didn't seem all that bad. The area was dark, he'd give the guys that, but so was every other road at night.  
  
It was a little cooler than usual, but again, nothing too surreal. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "This isn't scary at all," he proclaimed. "Where's all the fog and mist?" He waved his fingers, mimicking a man in fear. "Ooooooh, scary."  
  
A fog ascended unto them.   
  
It seemed to come from the ground up, circling their feet and winding it's way up their legs till the entire landscape was shrouded in a misty haze. Above them, the dark sky was barely visible and any trace of previous stars had disappeared. The five co-workers were engulfed in an eery predicament, all too familiar to four of them.  
  
"You had to say fog, didn't you!" reprimanded Jimmy, throwing his arms in the air. "Now look what you've done."  
  
Davis stood speechless, letting his hands caress the smoky gossamer around him. It was thick and relentless, like no fog he had ever seen. "That was spooky," he said, glancing back at his friends. "So, now what?"  
  
"Now I hit you in the head," replied Bobby, waving the fog from his face. "For a minute I thought just *maybe* we'd be able to find the house without all this supernatural crap."  
  
Unpleasantries now aside, they decided to do what they had come to do- find the house. They started walking away from the truck, abandoning their only link to civilization. As they stepped further into the fog, and away from the road, they could hear their footsteps change from shuffling on gravel to sloshing through mud.  
  
"We just left the road," reported Carlos, proud he'd been able to detect it this time.  
  
"Is that what the mud means?" asked Davis, looking back over his shoulder to the rest of the group. He'd been nominated point in an unverbalized vote. Actually, none of the others seemed to move unless he did first, so he really hadn't had any choice in the matter. But scared or not, Davis was still interested in seeing this house, so he trudged on.  
  
After a few minutes into their journey, Davis stopped, causing his friends to collide with each other like railroad cars. He cocked an ear to the wind with intent. "Do you hear something?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Panting?" chorused Jimmy and Bobby.  
  
Davis shook his head. "No. It sounds like footsteps. Like someone's running."  
  
The rest bent forward, craning to hear the sounds.   
  
*Slosh. Slosh. Slosh. Slosh*  
  
They froze, listening to the approaching footsteps. This was new. No one had heard this before. They stood, motionless and gripped in both fear and anticipation as the footsteps picked up speed. They were approaching fast and gaining in momentum.  
  
"Oh, shit, this isn't good," breathed Bobby, remembering the last time he and Jimmy and been in this position. "Maybe it's Sarah."  
  
Jimmy shook his head. "No. These sound like an adults. They're too loud for a little girls."  
  
Carlos waved his hand at the talking co-workers and hushed them both. "Would you be quiet," he warned in a whisper. "Maybe they'll run right past us."  
  
Stagnant and silent, they stood waiting to see what would emerge from out of the mist. Each man, eyes wide and with an ear to the wind, refused to even breath as they listened and waited.  
  
"Aaachhoooo!"  
  
The stillness was broken, and Jimmy found himself apologizing emphatically for the sudden scare. Then, they all reverted back to their silent statuesque positions. But this time it was different- no one could hear the approaching footsteps.  
  
"Hey, Carlos, you were right," Davis said. "I guess they did just run past us." He turned around, ready to continue. "Which way was I going?" he asked over his shoulder. Jimmy pointed a direction, so Davis took the cue. He walked on, but stopped again.  
  
A woman was before him, serene and silent. She just stood there, watching with curious eyes as the five men grabbed their chests.  
  
"Is she one of them?" asked Davis from the corner of his mouth.  
  
"That's the one I threw water on," replied Jimmy, leaving the rest of the group and cautiously taking up position beside Davis. "And the one we thought we hit with the car."  
  
Bobby threw his arms in the air. "Here we go again with the 'we'!. You were driving. You hit her...Not me. I'm just an innocent bystander."  
  
"Shut up, Bobby," Carlos said, also stepping up to Davis and Jimmy. He looked the woman over, noting her elegant gold gown and black dress shoes. Her neck was enjeweled with a silver amulet dangling from a thin chain. "Yep, she's the one I saw in the parlor."  
  
Bosco just breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god she's not the one from the painting," he said. "I don't think I could stand for that again."  
  
Davis looked back at him, his brow furrowed. "You know, I'm beginning to believe the rest of the guys and their stories, but this painting woman...She still sounds fishy to me."  
  
"Why doesn't someone ask her what she wants?" Jimmy said, pushing Davis out front.  
  
"Why me?" he retorted, stepping back.  
  
"You're the one that wanted to come and experience this," replied Jimmy. "So go experience." He pushed him forward again.  
  
Davis stumbled into the woman, but she caught him before he fell. "My poor baby," she cooed, an endearing smile etching across her face. She raised her hands in a beckoning embrace. "You must be more careful."  
  
Davis blushed despite himself and kicked absently at the mud. "She likes me. She called me baby."  
  
The woman stepped forward, her arms outreached before her. But she brushed past Davis and went straight for the one blowing his nose. "My poor child, you must come in from the cold. You'll catch a death."  
  
Davis' face dropped as the rest couldn't help but laugh. The woman coddled Jimmy's head in her chest, patting his hair motheringly. "What have I told you about playing in the rain?" she continued, snagging Jimmy away from the group.  
  
The firefighter was lost momentarily in the comforting embrace, but once he had regained his senses- which occurred after a forceful sneeze, he pushed her off and back stepped to the group. "No," he urged, arms waving. "You ain't sucking me into you freaky world."  
  
But Davis, having gotten over his rejection, was beginning to see some fun in this. He leaned into Jimmy and whispered in his ear. "Just play along," he said. "Maybe she'll take us to the house."  
  
"After all this, you still want to see the house?!" cried Bosco, his arms spread in astonishment.  
  
Davis smiled a yes, so Jimmy stomped his foot and played into the game. He let the woman coddled his head once again as she drew him into her embrace. Davis, Carlos, Bobby and Bosco hung a few steps behind, following the two further into the fog. And every so often, Jimmy would sneak a look at them over his shoulder, only to find them giggling and mimicking.  
  
After several minutes, the fog began to thin. They had arrived at the clearing where the ominous house stood surrounded by dense trees and darkness. Having already experienced it's awesome appearance, Bosco, Carlos and Bobby continued to follow Jimmy and his nursemaid towards the entrance. But Davis stood back to stare at it's almost grotesque presentation.  
  
The walls were constructed of stone, but mix-matched in a mosaic of odd patterns. Ivy crawled up the sides and over the roof, it's long tentacles twisting and turning it's way around the great structure. To Davis, they looked like they were trying to eat the house- creeping and scavenging across its victim before taking the initial killing bite. He shuddered and quickly ran to catch up with the others.  
  
They were just entering the house through the auspicious oak door located in the center of the building's face. It was illuminated by one lamp, hanging over it's mantle and flickering in the wind. Davis was beginning to regret his decision to come- this was alarming than the guys had described.  
  
But he was there now, and he couldn't show fear. He stepped into the house and joined the rest in the grand lobby. Bosco was standing in the middle of the foyer, his arms crossed and surveying the room. Carlos leaned against a wall, also watching the room for unexpected spookiness. Whereas, Jimmy was sitting on a long bench with the mysterious woman cradling him in her arms. Bobby was right beside them, tapping his foot irritably and rolling his eyes at the display.  
  
A moment later the butler appeared, wearing the same suit and snide, bitter expression as before. He came from down the hall where the parlor was and stopped at the foot of the staircase. "The electrician, I presume?" he said to Davis, as deadpan as ever.  
  
Four hands pointed in Davis' direction. Davis stood back, his eyes wide. "Me?"  
  
The butler took this as affirmation and approached the shaking newcomer. "I suppose you will do the job accurately," he accused, glancing at the others with disdain. "The fuse box is right this way." He grabbed Davis' elbow and led him towards the door behind the staircase.  
  
Davis struggled and pleaded with eager eyes to his friends, but they merely replied with waves and good byes. "You wanted to come here, remember?" said Bosco with a smile and little remorse.  
  
"Go forth and tame the house," jeered Carlos.  
  
"Watch your step," warned Bobby, waving like a baby.  
  
"Aaachhoooo!" sneezed Jimmy, who received further cooing from the woman.  
  
Davis, scowling and realizing he wasn't going to get any help or sympathy, turned to the basement door and decided to be the man they obviously couldn't be. He'd show these babies he could handle the house, and he didn't need them to hold his hand either. "Got a flashlight?" he asked, peering down the dark, winding staircase.   
  
*********  
  
(Read on...Please.)   
  



	3. Drive, Davis!... Just Drive! Chapter II...

  
  
Drive, Davis...Just Drive!  
********************  
  
  
"Just get a grip," Davis said to himself, as he climbed down the basement stairs- his only companion a flashlight of questionable vitality. The steps creaked and groaned under each pace, yielding the woods decrepit age and stability. With one hand tightly gripping the flashlight, and the other along the wall for support, Davis continued his descention into the dungeon.  
  
He remembered that part the most about Bobby's story; the dungeon. That is what he had called the basement. And when Davis finally reached the bottom step, he could understand why. Before him were three tunnels, each formed from craggy concrete and leading off in different directions. He flashed his light down each one, inspecting for a fuse box somewhere along the walls. But all he found were cast iron rings spiked into the stone at regular intervals.  
  
Since no tunnel particularly stood out, Davis decided to go with the one on his right. As he fielded his way, he let his flashlight bounce from the floor to the wall, then to the ceiling and down the opposite wall. He continued to follow the tunnel in such a manner, twisting and turning around endless corners, until he came to a dead end. Cursing, he turned and headed back.  
  
A short while later Davis was back at ground zero. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he said, picking his next tunnel. This time choosing the one on his left he walked a little faster, more confident than he had been before. He bounced the light off the walls, same as before, but with more of a rhythm to his actions. Unconsciously, he picked up his own beat and began bobbing his head to the song playing out in his mind.  
  
But when a new instrument joined in, Davis stopped. He didn't remember adding dripping water to his repertoire. He spun around, his light scanning the rough concrete for the source. But to no avail. The only new thing he noticed was the green and brown algae and moss sprouting from the cracks in the floor. Stepping over a rather large patch, Davis continued down the tunnel until he came to a break in one of the walls.  
  
He leaned over to peer into the dark area and banged his head on an iron bar. Stepping back, Davis realized the bar belonged to a cell, or more to the point, an antiquated dungeon's cell.   
  
"Good description, Bobby," Davis breathed, stepping away. "Dungeon's got my vote." He spun around and started back the way he had come. "So, why am I doing this exactly?" he asked himself, as he started to run.  
  
"Cause I'm an idiot," he finished, as he slid into the clearing at the base of the stairs. Panting from his jaunt through the second tunnel, he sat down on the wooden chair to catch his breath. Then he sat up abruptly, his eyes wide.  
  
"Chair?" he said, gulping down a large lump in his throat. "Where'd the chair come from?"  
  
*********  
  
Jimmy squirmed under the woman's embrace, finding her both comforting and frightening. His head was throbbing, and his nose was still stuffed, but as much as he wanted to crawl into a warm bed and sleep, he didn't want to do it here-or with her. He sat up slowly, stripping the woman from his shoulders and moved to the other end of the bench. "Maybe someone should go after..."   
  
A loud clap of thunder reverberated outside, interrupting Jimmy and shaking the walls. It was followed by a blinding flash of lightening, which left the front hallway bathed in blackness once it resolved.  
  
Several bumps and groans could be heard in the darkness, accompanied by a few child like shrieks and scrambling feet. A moment later, the lights were returned and Bosco found himself standing in the middle of the foyer while the others were either cowering in fear, or rubbing their foreheads in pain.  
  
"And you wanted to know why I wore a helmet?" smirked Bosco, watching as Jimmy picked himself off the floor. He had jolted from his seat at the sound of the thunder and had tried to run for the front door. Obviously, he had missed. And Bosco found it rather amusing.  
  
Bobby and Carlos released each other from their clasp, stepping away from each other in dramatic manhood. "How 'bout them Yankees?" asked Carlos, flexing his muscles in a jocular fashion.  
  
Bobby rolled his head, also straining his biceps. "Yep. Gonna go far this year," he replied, his voice unnaturally deep.  
  
*********  
  
Downstairs, Davis had been saved the frightening chill of thunder and lightening. But he had other things to worry about, like where the chair had come from.  
  
He rose slowly, backing away from the auspicious piece of furniture. He turned around, but stopped suddenly when he came face to face with a concrete wall. Spreading his arms along the wall, he pushed off and stared.  
  
The tunnels were gone. In their place stood unforgiving concrete.  
  
Davis was boxed in- surrounded on three sides by walls, and behind him by the staircase. It didn't take a genius to figure out what to do next. Davis scrambled up the winding staircase, dropping his wallet somewhere along his ascension. Several steps later, he paused and considered climbing back down to retrieve it, but decided an affirmative no when a cold blast of air blew past him- accompanied with the sound of a low murmur.  
  
When he reached the top of the stairs, he fumbled with the doorknob until he finally got it to work. He shoved the door open. "Guys! Let's get out..."  
  
He paused, realizing he wasn't in Kansas anymore.   
  
He was standing in a long corridor richly decorated in hardwood and thick carpeting. Along the walls hung oil lamps; some lit, some dead. Between them were doors. And at the end of one hallway was a large window with branches scraping against it's pane. In the other direction was darkness.  
  
Knowing what lay behind him, and not wanting to step further into darkness, Davis opted for the direction of the window and doors. But something kept scratching at the back of his mind- the woman.  
  
Davis knew the mysterious woman lived up here, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to run into her. He tried to remember the stories, but somehow the memories were confusing. Bobby had mentioned something about the woman being in a room with a candle, and Bosco had spoken of her being in a room with a lamp and bookcase. Bosco had also mentioned that she had stepped out of a painting on the wall, but Bobby had seen nothing of the sort.  
  
Davis considered that maybe one of them had been elaborating- since the woman's description seemed to be identical in both stories. And although it was easier to believe Bobby would be the elaborator, Bosco's story seemed the most unlikely.  
  
But either way, it didn't help Davis' situation.   
  
"Okay," he said. "I'm gonna go with Bobby on this one." He started down the hall, leaving the black hallway behind him. "Sorry, Bosco."   
  
As he approached the window, Davis let his flashlight sway across it's pane- revealing the dark night on the other side.  
  
The effect was startling. With the black back drop behind a curtain of reflective material, Davis could see his own reflection, albeit distorted and grotesque. He shivered and moved a little faster.  
  
"I thought you said this wasn't even scary?" said a voice behind him.  
  
Davis froze mid-step, one foot hovering over the carpet. He was too terrified to look behind him let alone move, but the voice had sounded familiar. Slowly, he let his eyes wander to the window where he pointed his flashlight. He could see his reflection again, but this time he was not alone.  
  
He spun around, his arms out stretched and ready to throttle Bobby around the neck. "Don't go sneaking up on a guy like that!" cried Davis, his fingers poised inches from his friend's throat.  
  
But Bobby was undaunted. He stood still, staring at Davis with a crooked smile. "Have you met her yet?" he asked.  
  
Davis furrowed his brow, reciprocating his friend's odd stare. But he ignored the question. There was something different about Bobby- something not quite right, and Davis couldn't put his finger on it. He looked him up and down, trying to find the idiosyncrasy that was slightly askew.  
  
Bobby just stared back at him with unblinking eyes.  
  
*Right height. Right hair.* Davis thought to himself, making a mental analysis of his friend. *Right clothes. Right eyes-* His mind stopped.  
  
He had found it.   
  
Davis pointed at Bobby, his mouth agape. "Bosco," he breathed.   
  
The man before him, the one he had known for months, no longer had his eyes, but the eyes of Bosco. It was subtle, but Davis could see it clearly now. Bobby wasn't just Bobby, but a mixture of himself and Bosco. The man shared the innate qualities of two people, making it difficult to distinguish between one or the other.   
  
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Davis, backing away. He dropped his flashlight as he stumbled, trying to put distance between himself and the enigma. "No. Fucking. Way."  
  
The Bobby-slash-Bosco tilted it's head and pointed down the hall over Davis' shoulder. "She is waiting," it said. "You don't want to keep her waiting. She can be very impatient."   
  
Davis swallowed hard as he watched it back away from him- disappearing into the blackened abyss at the other end of the hall. In shock, it took him several beats before he was able to move his muscles. But when he did, they weren't to turn himself around and run.   
  
Instead, Davis passed out. He hit the floor with a thud as his world coalesced into a dark nothingness.  
  
*********  
  
"Where'd she go?" asked Jimmy, turning in circles in the front foyer. With the lights back on, and after brushing himself off, it was the first thing he noticed. The woman in the gold dress who had taken kindly to him, had disappeared.  
  
"Oh, this isn't good," breathed Bobby, looking over his shoulders. "This just isn't good."  
  
Carlos and Bosco followed suit, each searching the foyer for Jimmy's nursemaid. But no one found her. They were alone.  
  
Standing semi-circle in the middle of the room, they searched each other's eyes- each looking for the same thing within them; fear. No one wanted to voice their own fears, but if they could see it amongst the eyes of their friends, they would feel safe.  
  
"Can you help my mother?" asked a small voice emanating from the hall leading to the parlor.  
  
"Aaaah!" shrieked Bobby, turning to see the little girl, Sarah, standing behind them.  
  
Jimmy stumbled backwards, landing in an awkward position on the bench. He pointed and gawked, trying to articulate his fear. But the only thing out of his mouth was, "Aaachhoooo!"  
  
Carlos turned and ran, but tripped on the carpeting and fell to the floor.  
  
Bosco tapped his head. "Helmet. Good," he said, nodding at his friend scrambling from the floor. Then he looked at the little girl. "Your mother?" he asked. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
Bobby, now composed, stepped forward. "Let me guess. She's asleep and you can't wake her up?" he asked, his eyes rolling.  
  
The girl looked back at them with questioning eyes. "How did you know?" she asked back, her tiny features reminiscent of a China doll.  
  
Jimmy rose from the bench wiping his nose, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Cause we were here earlier," he said. "And if I remember...Aaachhoooo!....Correctly, I woke her up."  
  
The girl stepped away, turning her green eyes to the sniffling man. "But we have never met," she replied. "I would remember you ,sir, if we had."  
  
Jimmy gulped down his fear, dropped his hand from her shoulder and turned to the staircase. Using his hands as a mega-phone, he called up the stairs. "Davis!" he cried, straining every muscle in his neck. "Time to go! Get your butt back here now!"  
  
But neither sound nor movement came from the shadows at the top of the stairs. In a collective blood pressure drop, four faces turned flush white.  
  
"He is sleeping," said the little girl. "You can find him upstairs on your left."  
  
The four white faces turned to the source of information, but not one spoke. A moment later, they were scrambling up the stairs in search of their friend- scratching and crawling over each other in an attempt to get to the top first.  
  
Carlos, the winner of the great 'King-of-the-Hill' game, clambered onto the top landing and stood up. He looked back down the stairs to find his friends- sprawled and moaning, lying on different levels. Bosco and Jimmy had at least made it half way up before being pummeled by Carlos, but Bobby hadn't even got that far. Either he had been to scared to move fast enough, or he'd been used as the primary spring-board for everyone else.  
  
But regardless of what had occurred, Bobby was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairs. He raised a hand and spoke slow. "You guys go ahead," he said, between coughs. "I'll just wait here till my bones mend, thank you."  
  
Carlos shrugged, and a moment later he was joined by Jimmy and Bosco on the landing. To the left was what the girl had said, so they headed in that direction- Bosco out front since he had the helmet.  
  
And it was a good thing he was wearing it, because several steps into the darkness he tripped over a body on the floor. With a thud, he hit the floor and rolled onto his back. "I love this thing," he said, as he rose and adjusted his protective gear. "Everyone should wear one."  
  
"Whatever," replied Carlos, lowering himself to the floor. "Let's just get Davis, and get out of here."  
  
"I'm with you," added Jimmy, hovering over Davis' still form. He shook him, calling his name, but to no avail.   
  
"How'd you wake that woman again?" asked Bosco, trying to remember the story.  
  
"I threw a glass of water on her," Jimmy frowned. Then, noting there was no glass nor water anywhere in the vicinity, he tried something different. He called his friend's name again, this time adding a few face slaps to the repertoire.  
  
A moment later, Davis bolted upright into a sitting position- his face ashen, and his heart beating a mile a minute. Jimmy sat back on his heels in astonishment. "Wow, that was cool. It actually worked." He looked at Davis with a quizzical expression. "I've never passed out before," he said. "What does it feel like?"  
  
Davis smirked. "Like this," he replied, slapping Jimmy in the face a few times. "Now, don't ever do that again or I'll bust your ass for assault!"  
  
But before Jimmy could respond, Carlos interrupted. He hauled Davis to his feet. "See enough of the house yet?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "Cause we're all ready to go if you are."  
  
Davis nodded his head. "No arguments from me," he replied. Then he turned to Bosco and pinched his arm.   
  
"Ow!" cried Bosco, rubbing the sore spot. "What was that for?"  
  
"Just checking," replied Davis. "Where's Bobby?"   
  
"Waiting at the bottom of the stairs," Carlos said, pushing them all towards the staircase. "Now let's go already!"  
  
They bounded down the steps, missing two and three at a time until they reached the main floor. Bobby was no longer lying on the floor tending to his injuries, rather, he was standing at the door holding it open and waving them all through.  
  
"Like the song says," he said. "Let's move it, move it!"  
  
Jimmy followed with a, "I'm so into that," as they all ran out of the house into the bleak night.  
  
And as they ran, no one dared to look back, and no one dared to speak. Jimmy, Bosco, Carlos, Bobby and Davis ran as fast as their legs would take them, trudging through the thick mud and haze. Finding their way in the murky, mysterious field did not seem as hard as it had before, because now the fog was lifting.  
  
This meant, they all assumed, they were close to the road. And more importantly, Davis' Cherokee.  
  
And when it appeared before them, gleaming in the moon's reflection on the side of the road, they ran for their respective doors. Bosco was even daring enough to jump across the front hood and slide to the other side. Davis paused in amazement at his friend's new found ability, but quickly snapped back to reality when he noticed everyone was struggling to open their locked doors.  
  
Davis rushed to open his, then unlocked the rest. The four others scrambled for seats, no one wanting to sit alone. And since Bosco had won the coveted front seat, Jimmy, Carlos and Bobby fought for the back. Jimmy refused to climb into the rear again, so he settled on sitting on the floor across his friend's feet.  
  
A moment later, Davis had the truck started but he wasn't moving forward. He turned to the back seat and swallowed hard. "Um, never listen to me again," he said placatingly. "If I ever say something sounds like fun... Just shoot me. That's one house that didn't need to be figured out! "  
  
"You figured it out?" asked Bobby, straining over Jimmy's head to lean over the front seat.  
  
"Yeah!" cried Davis, his eyes wide, baffled that none of his friend's ineptitude.   
  
"Wanna share it with...aaachhoooo! the rest of us?" asked Jimmy from his cramped, but safe, place on the floor.  
  
"Sure," replied Davis, his eyes now fixed on the road ahead, hands gripped on the steering wheel. "That house is fucked up! Pure and simple. End of story."  
  
"Sounds good to me," agreed Bobby.  
  
"No argument here," conceded Carlos.  
  
"Yeah...aaachhoooo!...Me either," added Jimmy.  
  
But Bosco answered in a different fashion. He grabbed the driver roughly by the shoulder and pointed down the road. "Would you drive, Davis!...Just drive!"  
  
*********  
  
(So, do you think you have the house figured out? Cause I'm thinking there's a little more than Davis has insinuated. Read the epilogue to find out if you're right...please.)  
  



	4. Drive, Davis!... Just Drive! Epilogue

  
  
**Hands up if you think Davis has got it right? Well, if you raised your hand you're only partly right...The house is screwed up. But there is a bit more of an explanation, and it's revealed below. But before you read, you might want to re-think the entire story and see if you can figure it our on your own. Go ahead, give it a try. I'll wait...***  
  
  
Drive, Davis...Just Drive!  
~ The Epilogue ~  
*********************  
  
  
Having the bejuzzus scared out of you tends to make one hungry. Add a sniffling man with out tissue to the mix, and you have one hell of a reason to pull over and get out.  
  
Back on the main road, Davis spotted a small diner with an old gas station out front. And since his tank was nearly empty, pulling over seemed like an even better idea. He slowed the truck to a stop in one of the vacant parking spots and turned off the ignition.   
  
It wasn't much, but it was standing, well lit, and gave the impression that corporeal beings frequented the place. The front windows, one on each side of the door, were large and dirty. And the exterior walls seemed to be made of large logs, linked together like some child's Tinker Toy collection. The roof was corrugated steel, slanted and peaked in the center with a short chimney jutting from the right side.  
  
"Looks kinda cozy," offered Bosco, closing his door behind him.  
  
The four others followed suit, stepping out of the truck into the cool night air. They found it refreshing, and each took the time to stretch and look about. The gas pump, dimly lit behind them, was vacant. And the road behind that deserted. There were only two street lamps on the property, but they gave enough light to make them feel safe.  
  
Together they entered the establishment, causing the little bell above the front door to chime. An elderly gentlemen in a white T-shirt and greasy apron looked up from the counter and motioned with his head to a booth near one of the front windows. The five men took their cue and slid into the vinyl benches.  
  
Bobby and Carlos each grabbed a menu, while Bosco and Davis took a moment to collect themselves and enjoy the non-auspicious environment. Jimmy quickly busied himself in an all out war with the napkin dispenser that refused to co-operate.  
  
"So," Bosco said, nodding his head rhythmically as he looked from face to face around the table.  
  
"So," replied Davis.  
  
"I don't wanna talk about it," Carlos said, his face buried in the menu.  
  
"Talk about what?" asked Bobby, feigning ignorance and equally buried in his own plastic menu.  
  
"You've been there," said a voice at the end of the table.   
  
Each patron at the table turned to see the man from behind the counter standing above them. He was wiping his hands on the apron ineffectively hiding the gut beneath it, and watching them with cerebral eyes. His head was covered in greying brown hair with a streak of white running from his forehead behind his right ear.  
  
Bosco smiled uneasily and crossed his hands on the table. "Been there?" he asked, quickly sharing a look with Davis.  
  
"You've been to the house," replied the man. "I can smell it on you." He pulled a chair from a nearby table and tucked it under himself as he sat down. "I've smelled it before," he continued. "And once, I even smelled like it myself."  
  
Five sets of eyes rested on the man, each calling out in an unverbal request to continue. But the man was no longer forthcoming with information. Instead, he looked over his shoulder to a waitress and ordered five cups of coffee. "You look like you need 'em," he finally said.  
  
Jimmy raised his head from the table where it had been resting for the past few minutes- a paper placemat stuck to his cheek. "Can I have mine with a side of NeoCitron?" he asked, then let his head drop back to the hard Formica.  
  
Davis grabbed Carlos' menu and hit Jimmy over the head. "Shut up, will ya," he said, turning back to the man. "Go on," he continued, urging the man further with his beckoning hands.  
  
The man pulled his chair in further, leaned across the table. "Did you go alone, or all together?" he asked, his voice low as his eyes darted from one customer to the other-eager to hear and learn from their story.  
  
"Uh, in groups," replied Bosco. "Then we all went together."  
  
The man smiled cryptically and nodded. "So, did you figure out it's mystery?" he asked.  
  
Four sets of eyes stared back at him, each without answers. One set, the one belonging to Jimmy, were closed, but he did manage to mumble an obstinate yes before he sneezed yet again.   
  
"And?" urged the man, leaning to the side as the waitress delivered the five mugs of steaming coffee. "Did you master it?"  
  
Bosco sat upright, gripping the edges of the table. "Master it?" he asked. "That sounds like something that would require time. We wanted to get out of there."  
  
The man furrowed his brow. "Then why did you return?"  
  
Everyone glared at Davis, who replied with an innocent shrug. "I just wanted to see it for myself," he said.  
  
"But he said you figured out the mystery?" the man asked, pointing to Jimmy.   
  
"We did," spoke Bobby, finally pulling himself from his menu and ready to partake in the inevitable conversation. "The house is fucked up. Pure and simple."  
  
The man dropped his head and closed his eyes in disappointment. "Let me ask you this," he finally said, after a few moments. "Did each of you see the same things?"  
  
Bosco looked at everyone's faces and finally replied for the group. "Yeah," he said with a shrug. "Old house. Scary people. Stupid thick fog."  
  
The man raised a knobby finger in the air and tilted his head. "Are you sure? Or did you noticed little changes...Like certain things out of place, or details not quite right?"  
  
Davis was the first to respond to this. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. He gave the man a side long glance before speaking. "Well, I never saw the woman," he admitted. "Did you see the woman? The one from upstairs in the nightgown?"  
  
The man shook his head. "No," he replied. "But no one ever sees the same thing in that house." He paused, spreading his hands across the table top as he closed the gap between him and his audience. "It reads your minds. It takes your thoughts, and molds them into your fears."  
  
Bosco didn't quite believe the explanation, certain things just didn't connect. "But we did see the same things. Jimmy and Bobby," he pointed to the two men, then continued. "They went first, and then they told us about it. Later, when Carlos and I found it, purely by accident by the way, we saw the same house and the same weird people in the parlor. And when we all went back, the same people were there."  
  
Smiling, the man shook his head. "Do you know how rumours work?" he asked, receiving five eagerly nodding heads as a reply. "Well, after the first telling they get a bit hazy. And they build and build, and new parts are added while other parts are forgotten and reconstructed in a new telling." He paused as he watched the comprehension dawn of the five young men.   
  
"When each of you returned after hearing the first story, you already had a picture in your head," he continued. "And when your mind couldn't form the exact details, it just filled them in. The house tapped into it and created what you thought. And I'm pretty sure that each time you returned, the house seemed that much more scarier."  
  
Davis' eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "That's why I saw you," he pointed at Bobby, then paused and pointed at Bosco. Confusing himself, he shook his head. "That's why I saw both of you upstairs!" he continued. "I'd just been thinking of you before I passed out!"  
  
Jimmy moaned, slowly raising his head and peeling the still stuck placemat from his face. "And I was thinking of strange little butlers and mysterious noises when we first approached the place," he admitted, as he slumped his shoulders. "I probably started this whole thing."  
  
"But why did I see a woman in the nightgown then," asked Bobby. He turned to Jimmy with a questioning expression.  
  
Jimmy shook his head. "I wasn't thinking about women," he replied. Then he pointed at Bosco. "But you saw her too, didn't you?"  
  
Bosco sat back, drawing his chin to his chest. "Yeah, she was beautiful," he said. "But why did she only appear to me and Bobby?"  
  
Carlos frowned. "Cause the two of you are always thinking about beautiful women," he replied flatly.  
  
"And Jimmy!" blurted Davis, pointing an accusing finger at his sniffling friend. "You're sick!"  
  
"What's...Aaachhhoooo!...that got to do with anything?"  
  
But Bosco answered instead, now seeing the connection clearly in his head. "You weren't sick the first time you went," he replied, but received nothing but a blank, not-getting-the-picture-yet look from Jimmy.   
  
"You never said anything about a woman fawning over you when you went with Bobby," Bosco continued, his voice rising in excitement. "But when we went back with Davis, you must have been thinking about your mother or Kim, or something! That's why she coddled you! You were sick and wanted to be babied!...You big freaking baby."  
  
Jimmy slumped low in his seat as everyone at the table stared at him with laughing eyes. He turned red, and suddenly found the table top fascinating. "I can't help it," he admitted, his voice child-like and embarrassed. "When I'm sick I wanna be smothered."  
  
"Oh, I feel so much better now," Davis said, taking in a deep breath. "This at least, makes some sense."   
  
But Carlos snatched that idea away from him. "Sense?!" he cried, starring dumbfounded at his officer friend. "A house that reads minds makes sense?! If you ask me, I say it's still fucked. And if you ask me twice, I'll still say fucked, only louder!"  
  
The man watched as the five young men continued to discuss their evening's events. He rose from the table with a smile and pulled his chair away. Never a night went by when some poor tourist to the area didn't come in and mourn over their encounter with the house over a cup of hot coffee. And the man enjoyed each story, memorizing each one as it was told and filing it away for future reference.  
  
One day, when he had heard enough stories, his plan was to return. But this time, prepared to master the supernatural abilities of the house. With the right mind, the house could be a gold mine- a person's playground. But with an untrained, vulnerable one, it could be your worst nightmare.  
  
He stepped away from the table, but was caught in his silent escape as the one called Bobby spoke to him. "So, what did you see at the house?" the young man asked.   
  
The man smiled, not about to fill them in. "Drink your coffee," he said. "Just drink your coffee."  
  
*********  
  
~ The End ~   
  
  
  
  
~Seriously, it's the end~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~It's over! Stop reading already, and go write a review!~  
  



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